


Epilogue

by Synthtraitor



Category: A Plague Tale: Innocence (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Other, Post-Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 08:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21335296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synthtraitor/pseuds/Synthtraitor
Summary: From where you stand, there’s nothing but sky in front, and Rodric’s body is comparatively small in the foreground of the infinite blue, like a faded fresco with no depth.
Relationships: Rodric (A Plague Tale: Innocence)/Reader, Rodric (A Plague Tale: Innocence)/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> Rodric deserved to not die and have an epilogue of his own.

“Slow down!” Rodric calls from behind you, his voice muted by the breeze and bounced about as a faint echo in the valley below. 

“You hurry up instead!” you shoot back, but the words lack follow through because after a few hurried paces up the ridge, you pause to let him catch up anyways. Turning to inspect him, you let the wind cool the sweat on your face, and watch as it combs through his dark hair. His face is red from exertion, mirroring the warm flush you feel in your cheeks, and you’d managed to convince him to leave his heavy apron and gloves behind, so he looks like he could be anyone, not the murdered blacksmith’s son, not the noble fighter, just Rodric, just a boy humoring your sudden and whimsical inclinations.

He clambers up the last outcropping of rocks separating the two of you, and then turns to regard Chateau D’Ombrage with you: Enormous, crumbling, and hidden. Quietly panting, he breaths in the clean air, and you let the sun warm your scalp. 

“So,” he mentions casually after he’s done catching his breath, hands on his hips, “where’re we going, anyways?”

You offer a conspiratorial smile, and simply say, “you’ll see.”

Before he can ask anything else, you turn and continue to climb up the ridge. He shakes his head and follows right behind you, managing for the most part to keep with your pace until you begin to scramble up a field of loose gravel. Each step begins to send loose stones down to tumble past him, and he manages to laugh each time you slip until one rock almost hits him square in the forehead.

“Stop that,” he grunts the second time it happens.

“Stop wha - shit!” you shout as you lose your footing, wobbling forward and foot sliding down a few steps back towards Rodric. He curses, then catches you under your arms before your back hits his chest, making you yelp.

You both teeter dangerously backwards as Rodric wraps both arms around your middle in an attempt to hold you up, and you grip his forearms, trying to find your feet beneath you.

Miraculously, you both steady, hearts racing, blood cold. He’s breathing heavy behind you and you’re clinging onto him tightly as you try and calm yourself.

After an incredulous moment of silence, he laughs, grip tightening barely as he shakes. “I told you to slow down.”

“...Yea? Well…” you grumble, then remember your purpose, and what you’re trying to show him. “Still. Come on,” you try to rally him. You move to untangle yourself from his arms but he just laughs and hugs you tighter, his hair tickling the skin on your neck as he smooshes his face into your shoulder.

“Rodric!” you squirm, and he continues to smother his laughter before dropping you when you force him to wobble dangerously once more. Now on your feet, you right your tunic with a huff, then grab his hand and continue up the ridge, this time pulling him along behind you so he stays close. “Come on,” you encourage, “just a little farther, I promise.”

He pretends to sigh, then holds your hand tighter as the two of you continue to pick your way up the narrow ridge, this time more carefully. The trees are scraggly and scarce, rooted only where patches of soil peek through the rock cover.

Farther up towards the cliff, the ground grows more sturdy, and you lead him around a bend to a slight terrace backed by a large boulder, resembling somewhat of a natural courtyard. There are a few spots of grass where the ground has softened, and a few toughened flowers are blooming in the dry soil, yellow like butter and proud as banners.

“Is this it?” Rodric asks, stepping towards the edge and whistling low, “It’s quite a view.”

From where you stand, there’s nothing but sky in front, and Rodric’s body is comparatively small in the foreground of the infinite blue, like a faded fresco with no depth. “No,” you say evenly, retying your shoes and hiking your bag tighter to your body, “We have to climb,” you say, nodding to the boulder crowned by trees, their roots creeping down the abrupt edge.

“Do you want me to carry that?” he asks, gesturing to your bag, and despite the fact that the straps are digging into your shoulder and it bounces annoyingly against your hip, you tell him no.

“I’ll go first,” you shake him off as you approach the boulder, “just grab where I grab. You’ll be fine.”

He rolls his eyes eyes, but his good mood keeps the smile on his face. The view’s refreshed his sense of adventure. “Alright,” he says, “but you better not fall on me… Again.”

He approaches the boulder while you try out the first hand hold and test the grip of your shoes on the rock. “I won’t, but I might kick you,” You wiggle your foot in his face as he nears, and he knocks it away with the back of his hand.

“You’ll regret it,” He squints up at you, and you snort.

“I’m sure I won’t.”

The rock is rough and chalky under hand, and there’s moss growing in the cracks you sink your fingers into for handholds. You’ve already been up here once before, so you have a vague memory of the easiest route up.

You summit the boulder without issue, pausing at the top to turn and breathe the fresh smelling air as Rodric hauls himself over the peak, a little sweaty, but still in good spirits.

“Is  _ this _ it?” he asks, turning to sit in the same direction you’re standing, facing the chateau once more, only now it’s obscured by the trees that have clustered near the top of the ridge, where the terrain isn’t as rocky.

“No,” you snicker, reaching down to grab his arm and haul him towards you. You’re certain you couldn’t have budged him unless he stood so on his own, indulgent of the mystery you’ve spun.

“Then how much farther? It’s lunchtime, you know.”

“I know,” you grin, then pat your bag, “and I’ve got lunch. So stop complaining and hurry, or we won’t make it home by nightfall.”

With the promise of food, Rodric seems even more eager to press on, and so he joins you with a warm hand on your back. You press on through the trees and down a slight decline, the ground softer on this side of the peak, with dirt and dried needles underfoot.

After a couple minutes of walking, the trees begin to break, the forest growing less dense, and the sunlight is finally able to touch the needled floor.

Ahead, peeking from between the trees, an aquamarine lake becomes visible, it’s waters sparkling white under the sun’s attention, and the closer you lead him to the water, the more green and lively the ground underfoot grows.

You pass under patches of sunlight, between small shrubs, and over the roots of ancient, stunted trees, their tops tickled by the wind. When you reach the pebbly shore, Rodric asks, slightly awed, “Is  _ this _ it?”

“No.”

He whips his head towards you, the beginnings of an annoyed look on his face melting away when he catches sight of your joking smile. “You’re an arse,” he declares fondly.

You scoff and grab his hand, leading him towards a grouping of flat rocks jutting out into the water. “No, if I was an arse, I’d eat all this food by myself,” you pat the bag hanging at your hip for emphasis.

Still holding your hand, he picks up his pace so he’s walking next to you rather than trailing behind. “You wouldn’t.” He says, leaning over you with mock outrage so you have to jut your chin out to look him in his daring eyes.

“Then don’t call me an arse!” With your left hand holding his, you turn to punch him with your right but he catches your wrist.

“And now you hit me!”

You snort and ready to pull yourself from him and sprint towards the rocks when he swoops down and lifts you up, one arm supporting your back, the other under the crook of your knees. “Rodric!” you shriek in surprise, and then when he steps towards the water you wrap your arms tighter around his neck and curl your knees tight over his arm. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“Tell me you wouldn’t eat all the food!” he grins, continuing until the lake is lapping at the toes of his shoes.

“Rodric!”

He makes like he’s reeling back to toss you in the lake, and you shout, “Don’t!” holding him as tight as you can.

“Oh nooo!” he mocks as he swings you forward, and you squeeze your eyes shut as your momentum takes you - and then he stops you suddenly, before you can fly out of his arms.

His laughter is loud and large and you can feel it from where you’re pressed against his chest. He snorts, but seems unbothered by it. You purse your lips and pound on his chest without any strength behind the hits. “You’re an arse! I’m never taking you anywhere again!”

Your exclamation only makes him laugh harder, and he presses a kiss to your wrinkled forehead before calming down and looking out across the lake, and then farther down the shore in the direction you were leading him. “Are we headed to the rocks?” he asks, facing the boulders you’d been leading him to.

“Whatever.” You pull your arms from around his neck and cross your arms, and he snorts, and begins to pick his way along the shore, you still in his arms. He glances down at you when you say nothing else, then kisses your forehead again, then your cheek, your nose and your lips, and you can’t help the smile that bursts across your face when you shove his head away from yours. “Cut it out, you big oaf.”

“Mmh, you always say the sweetest things.” he says as he lets you down and starts walking parallel to the lake towards the boulders, tossing a glance over his shoulder to check that you’re with him.

The pebbles are uneven underfoot, and though you can pick your way across the shore with relative ease, Rodric’s feet sink into the pebbles with every step, and you quickly overtake him.

“Come on,” you say as you push yourself up the first boulder, and then the second, taller one. You turn to watch Rodric do the same.

“And now,” you declare, walking to the edge by the water and sitting down cross-legged, “we eat.” Once settled, you pull your bag off and set it next to you.

“And swim?” Rodric takes a seat beside you as you flip open your bag and pull out four apricots, two for each of you, half a loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese. He takes the apricots from you so you can slice the bread, and takes a bite of one when you begin to slice the cheese.

“It’s all snowmelt,” you laugh as you hand him his share, “We’d freeze.”

“Regardless,” he says with a smile as he takes the food graciously from you, “it’s a warm day. And we’d freeze together, you know.”

You roll your eyes and proceed to dig into your lunch, allowing the mid-spring air to fill the silence for you.

The water gently washes in and out of the cracks in the boulder, lapping at the stone, and across the way, you can hear the roaring echo of the breeze tussling the forest. Up here, by this hidden lake, the world is at peace. A peace you haven’t known for a while, not since the rats drove you from your home and from your family. But you suppose that they also drove you towards a new home, in Chateau D’Ombrage, and a new family in - you turn to look at Rodric, who looks deep in thought, which wouldn’t be worrying in its own right if it weren’t for the pensive furrow in his brow.

Nothing makes the loss of warmth and life during winter more obvious than the soft, kind sun in spring.

You sigh through your nose, and let your hand drop to your lap, rolling the apricots in your hand. It’s been six months since you lost your mother and father to the plague. Five since Rodric’s father was tortured to death by the inquisition. And Three months since Arthur was killed by the knight, since Rodric was shot twice and you told him you would not leave him to die alone, and three months since Amecia, Hugo, Mellie and Lucas have all disappeared, the rats and the cold along with them.

There are too many to mourn for, and the chirping of the birds and the fresh, new green that has swept over the landscape does nothing to hide the scars that are flattened battlefields, empty towns, and mass graves.

“... Rodric.”

“I’m fine,” he hastily replies, shaking his head and offering you a shaky smile. “I was just thinking. That’s all.”

You roll the apricots in your hand faster, certainly bruising them as you search his face for some clue alluding to what the right answer might be, but you find none. You grip the apricots and look out across the lake, serene, like the world after a storm. “Well, then… You’d better eat faster,” you turn back to him and smile, “or we won’t have time for a swim.”

He quickly shoves all of his bread and cheese into his mouth at once while you watch, and grins goofily at you in response, chewing with puffed out cheeks. He tries to say something, spitting crumbs at you and you can’t help but sputter a laugh as you swat him away and shake out your tunic.

You can worry over your lost friends later. You can mourn for your lost family later. For now, the air is clear, and nothing moves but the water, the faint, wispy clouds far above, and Rodric, and you as you leap, naked, into glacier melt.

Winter melts into spring, and with it, lives are forged anew.


End file.
